


I Guess You Aren't So Bad

by LilianaSnow



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Culture, Alien Technology, Aliens, Aliens Are Accepting, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Doctor Kurt, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Forests, Hybrids, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mercenary Peter, Mpreg, Outer Space, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, War, aliens are awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilianaSnow/pseuds/LilianaSnow
Summary: Peter is on a warship in deep space. What happens when he finds his soulmate?Note: All words in reference to aliens, alien worlds, and alien terms are complete gibberish until I assign meaning to them. If they bear resemblance to other languages, it is completely unintentional as I know all of three languages: American English, limited ASL, and complete fucking bullshit.





	1. Oh Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Trydosperia: try-DOSE-peer-ee-UH
> 
> Gernretalian: JURN-RHET-al-LEE-on
> 
> Galleyan: GAL-ay-un
> 
> Galle: GAL-ay
> 
> Hersyl: her-SILL
> 
> Elftyshn: elf-SHUN
> 
> Elftysh: elf-TISH
> 
> Grejisty: GREH-jis-tee
> 
> Grishnie: grish-NEE
> 
> Raspitoripalpaltin: RASP-it-tour-ih-PAL-PAL-tin
> 
> Tenstian: TEN-STEE-an
> 
> Trypstl: TRIP-STILL

Peter knew war.

He lived it. He breathed it. He had been raised to fight in it.

He had been born half-human, half-alien, as had the other members of his team. He was in one of many elite squads trying to bring liberty to the peoples of Trydosperia.

Like everyone else on his team, Peter had been born of a union between humans and aliens from other worlds. They had been gathered to form a fighting squad capable of fighting in deep space, and even on terrestrial battles they had an advantage over most species.

Jean and Charles were half Gernretalian, a race of telepathic elves which could move objects and read minds. They often were viewed as the worst kind of hybrid, simply because they were so dead set on settling things peacefully. Gernret had been caught in war for thirty decades. They had sent many of their people out to other planets to try to survive. Jean and Charles were distantly related, as their parents had been on the same escape pod. Even after the remaining Gernretalians had gone home, many of their offspring remained on Earth.

Hank was full-blooded Grejisty. Grejist was a planet full of curious yet savage animals. The smarter ones had left to learn more and colonize, because they tended to be a little less desirable as friends.

Logan was half Raspitoripalpaltin and a quarter Tenstian. Raspitoripalpal had been a world of savages, where the men with sharper senses were kings. He had inherited his supberb senses and amazing healing powers from his Raspitoripalpaltin mother, but his half Tenstian father had given him claws, wit, and, most importantly, instinct. Tensta was a world full of dangers, and only quick thinkers could survive the constant shifts in environment. His claws were the standard in Tensta, most often used for hunting or climbing on the planet. Their disabled had been gathered to be sent off to other worlds, and while Logan dearly loved his father, Trypstl had been disabled for years due to a rock crushing his leg while he evacuated an area sporting an active volcano.

Scott was distantly Elftyshn. Elftysh was a land with no light source, and the Elftyshn people had to create their own. His brother had been more flashy, but Scott's high energy was more precise and had saved him during training. He often warned people that when you got to be around 7th generation, control wavered, and so Scott, a 19th generation Elfyshn hybrid, wore glasses to control himself. His world had sent pioneers in seek of new lights.

Erik was three quarters Galleyan. While he had thankfully lost the contortion abilities found on Galle, he still was flexible, lithe, blunt, resistant to Gerbretalians, and had a haunting grin. Galle had been under attack, sending refugees to other planets. These planets had no metal in the air, and no more need to filter it from their oxygen. They learned, on many planets and in deep space, how to shape metal to their will.

Peter, too, was distantly Galleyan, but he merely filtered metal from his bloodstreams and magnetized silver to his hair. Such was the case for most 100,523rd-generation Galleyan pioneers. Surprisingly, Peter was far from unique on that front, although he was much, much faster than the average Galleyan. This was because he was quarter Herst. Hersyl was a land where if you couldn't move, even the plants would get you, so the Herst had evolved to be much, much faster than other creatures. Hersyl sent out soldiers simply to race other species.

None of this helped much when the _Blackbird_  got struck by a missile from Trydosperia. They got struck near the fourth moon of the planet and started falling downward.

As they fell, Peter found himself thrown into a corner. He clutched for dear life to the shelves. Logan wrapped his arms around Jean and dug his claws into the floor, shielding her. Erik magnetized himself and Charles to the wall, and Hank and Scott locked themselves into the seats. They hurtled toward the planet at breakneck speed. When they crashed, Scott, Peter, and Logan had been injured, although Logan healed quickly. Scott had suffered whiplash and Peter's right leg and left wrist were broken. They both passed out with the plane on fire.

* * *

Peter woke up suddenly, and he tried to move. However he was in immense pain, and screamed before he was able to get free of his binds. A quiet voice shushed him, and he looked around wildly to find a small blue boy holding a black board with things arranged on it. He wore a grass tunic and black armor, with strange markings on his skin.

"Be quiet, my mother doesn't know I'm down here!" he hissed, setting down the tray and covering his mouth. "You were injured when you came through here."

"Where am I?" Peter growled, looking around at the walls of packed-in dirt and the ornately designed mesh ceiling.

"The prisoner's camp. My mother doesn't know I'm here, let me see your hand."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am Kurt. You are?"

"I'm Quicksilver." Peter yelped as Kurt grabbed his wrist and started prodding at it. "Ow, ow, stop, please, stop, that hurts!"

"I'm sorry," Kurt told him, pulling his hand close. He reset the bones and tied hard, black wooden sticks to his arm. Peter sobbed and pulled it back as soon as he could.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I bound your wrist to heal. I did your leg too, when you first got here, before my mother threw you into the pits." Kurt lifted a black bowl filled with a strange amber liquid to his lips. "Drink this, it'll help the pain."

Peter gulped the strange substance down, then leaned against the wall. "How long has it been? It takes me three days to starve..."

"Here." Kurt set down a large bowl. Inside it were strange looking fruits, which Peter made a face at. "They're cooked, but you should have no problem eating them. Don't tell anyone I was down here- I'm not supposed to give care to the enemy."

"Enemy? You're not from-"

"I'm from Trydosperia. Royal family, heir to the throne and to the Helm of the Guard. We know Grishnie. Your technology is forfeit to us until your planet allows us liberty."

"I'm not Grishnie. I'm from Earth. We came to help you."

"There is no way that you are human."

"N-No. Almost half human, but... Earth allows other races to move in."

"Fine. Maybe you are from Earth. But you attacked us!"

"We got hit by one of your missiles. We fell." Peter remembered clearly now. "We fell and you must have found us in the wreckage, where's the  _Blackbird?_ "

Kurt shook his head. "We do not have this black bird. I need to attend to the rest of your company." He disappeared and a puff of smoke.

Peter sighed and poked at the strange fruit. It gave easily under his finger, and it smelled like cinnamon and funnel cake. It was light brown and green, and while it smelled delicious, he was scared to try it. He bit his lip and leaned against a wall. He tried to hear anything from outside, but all that he could was the sound of shouting. He couldn't tell who was yelling but he could hear a strange sound similar to the one Kurt had made when he had teleported. Rather than sit there . and do nothing, Peter tried to climb the wall. However, he had no weapons, which included no knives. With no knife, he couldn't cut himself free, or make a foothold, and even if he could, his leg and wrist were going to make it impossible. He sighed and laid his head against the wall again.

His stomach was grumbling, and he looked up at the mesh ceiling. There was no sign of his rescue, so he looked at the strange fruit Kurt had left. He hesitated, considering. If it was poisonous to Galleyans, it probably wasn't dangerous, but if it was poisonous to Hersyl or humans he was pretty damn dead. He'd be useless poisoned. However, if it wasn't, and he didn't eat it, he would starve to death. He groaned and tried to hear more. However, he couldn't hear. He bit his lip and reached for the bowl. He pulled a random piece of the fruit, then bit into it. Flavor bloomed on his tongue, and he chewed it slowly. It tasted pretty good. He winced slightly, because it felt strange and it hurt him that this was the closest thing to care he'd had.

He ate more of the fruits and then examined his binds and his splints. Whoever had locked him in the area had tied him to the wall with black tree roots. It was pretty well done. He couldn't shift out of it. The cast that Kurt had wrapped around his leg was snug and allowed him to move it a little bit. It was pretty sore, but he wasn't too hurt. His wrist was also bound tightly. He could move it but he wasn't able to use it very well. He whimpered softly when he bumped it against the roots. He sighed and leaned back, waiting.

* * *

Eventually, Peter heard a noise up above his head and looked up. The mesh net was being moved, and a person was coming down. He whimpered and curled as close as he could to the wall. When he saw the face of the woman lowered to see him, he backed away more. She looked similar to Kurt, but she had red hair and her markings were different. She clipped him free from the roots and pulled him jerkily up, tying a rope around him.

"We're bringing you before the court. One of the medics says you came from Earth to help us."

"Y-Yeah-"

"Save it for Azazel."

He found himself being hoisted up to the top of the hole. Once there, he looked around, seeing black trees with blue leaves on them. They had strange pink flowers opening, and orange fruits shaped vaguely like eggplants from Earth hanging from them. He was pushed roughly through a maze of these holes, brought to what appeared to be a primitive village. However, once he saw photographs of other people who looked to be in the same vein as Kurt and the people shoving them toward a large tent, and the weapons being handed out to people, he realized that it was a war camp. Everybody was making do with what they had, and there were even large, pink beasts pulling carts and wagons.

Peter had two people caging him in. The one on his right was the red-haired woman who had pulled him from the pit. The one to his left was a red-skinned woman with bright blue hair. Both of them wore armor made similarly to what Kurt had been wearing, and Peter vaguely wondered if he had gotten in trouble for feeding him. In front of him, two men with red skin were frogmarching Logan ahead of him. He had his hands tied behind his back, with strange gloves made of the same black material as the armor everybody seemed to be wearing. His hands were bent and tied at the wrist, preventing him from calling forth his claws. In front of Logan, Scott was also being frogmarched by two men, with his visor secured onto his head and a blindfold wrapped around his head that made it hard to see the visor.

Peter glanced behind him and saw Charles and Erik being treated similarly before the woman who had pulled him free forced him to look in front of him. They marched to the large tent and were forced in a straight line to kneel in front of a red-skinned man with large horns and black hair. He was sitting on an enormous throne made of the same type of stuff that everybody was wearing. However, instead of staring up at him, Peter looked at the slightly smaller throne beside it. Sitting there, with his tail curled around his body and wrapped around the other man's tail, was Kurt.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered.


	2. Help Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cute medic who saved Peter is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cristunlas: kriss-TOON-laws. An orange fruit shaped similarly to an eggplant that turns light brown and green when boiled. Smells like carnival food and tastes sweet and meaty. It has the texture of a freshly baked cookie.
> 
> tritu: try-TEE-ew. A type of soft, edible volcanic rock found mainly near islands. It's grey-black in color, has no smell, and tastes like pure sugar. In texture, it's like dried apricot.
> 
> guaya: goi-yah. The inside of the cristunlas tree. Purple in color, it gives off a strong alcoholic smell and has a wet, spongy texture. It is prepared inside of a covered stone pot which is then put underneath fire. Once finished, it smells sweet and earthy. The taste of the substance itself is rather bland, but the broth is potent and tastes similar to beef stroganoff.
> 
> briekl: bree-kul. A pink underwater plant that can be eaten raw, on its own, cooked, and with pretty much anything else. Once dried it is also the usual source of flames.
> 
> tristiyak: TRIST-yee-yak. A yellow-centered white flower that grows on a red bush. It has 30-47 petals and a single black seed. It has a smell alike honeydew and can be ground, along with its roots, into a paste that is edible and can be made into chrrtl.
> 
> chrrtl: chir-tul. A dish made with tristiyak paste and briekl that has been aged in guaya broth, which involves spreading the paste on a sheet of guaya briekl and rolling it into a tube.
> 
> chriltiime: krill-tim-MAY. A type of berry with purple seeds and red flesh which tastes bitter and acidic when raw but is flavorless when roasted.

"Are these the men you gave care too, son?" Azazel asked quietly. "Or did we pull the wrong people up?"

"They are the men from Earth, yes."

"Which one attacked you?"

Peter whimpered softly, awaiting the answer.

"None of them," Kurt lied. "One of them was delusional and refused medical aid."

"You're a terrible liar, son," Azazel told him softly. "It's okay. You can tell us."

"He's Raspitoripalpaltin, Dad. They're ruthless."

"Your tail?"

"Tenstian too. From Earth. They came to help us."

Azazel sighed. "Fine. No punishment will be given." He nodded to each of the guards, and everyone was cut free. Then a familiar voice was heard behind them.

"The way they can merge technology with nature- it's fascinating. Less susceptible to Galleyans, more renewable, incredibly effective-"

"Hank, I get it, these guys are cool."

Peter turned to see Jean and Hank walking into the tent, talking about their experience here. He raised an eyebrow.

"How in the hell did you two get out?"

"Of the prison pits?" Hank asked. "By being civil and explaining things."

"And it never hurts to telekinetically untie yourself," Jean added, emphasizing her point by lifting a flask from her side to her lips without her hands.

Peter shook his head. "I hate you both."

"You signed on with us," she reminded him.

"Jean?" Scott asked belatedly. His hoarse, strained voice screamed of pain and disuse. "That you?"

"Scott who the hell on this planet would pretend to be me during peacetimes relative to our planets?"

"Yeah, that's you." He tried to tell if he could remove his blindfold.

Kurt got off his throne and detached from his father to help him remove his blindfold. Scott closed his eyes tightly and reached to his face, then brought it back down and looked up at Kurt. Kurt smiled softly. "Thank you for ensuring you kept the rest of us safe."

"N-No problem, sir."

"Please. My name is Kurt." He smiled softly and held his hand out to help him stand. Peter watched with a twinge of unexplained jealousy as he checkedScott's neck, ensuring that his whiplash was okay. After that, he stepped away and surveyed everyone else. "I work as a military medic."

"Aren't you, like, a king?"

"Well, someday I'll be king. But for now, I must help my people to survive in the war." He offered a small smile. "However, I doubt that a few of you will be able to fight until you are healed, and I do need more people to help us here at the camp. I humbly ask of you assistance in any way that you can offer."

"I doubt I'm much use for anything until I'm healed, but if there's anything I can do to keep myself from becoming a burden I'll do it," Peter offered.

"Erik can help with the _cristunlas_ and _guaya,"_ Jean suggested. "He was usually chef on the ship."

"We can do worry about that and more once everybody knows each other."

* * *

After a couple of hours, they had been oriented enough to be assigned jobs. Peter also learned that while him and Scott were definitely worst off, what with a neck that was almost broken and the inability to do pretty much anything, none of them had escaped the crash totally unscathed (except Logan). Hank had a large gash on his arm from a crushed support beam, which was bandaged and cleaned very well by the young prince. Jean had lost her shirt and the feeling of loose clothes around her, as her side had been nicked by Logan's claws and she needed to be bandaged. Charles had suffered burns on his back and legs, which had some sort of salve on them now that Kurt had taught Erik to make. Erik had been victim to a cracked rib. While the cracked rib hurt him a lot, it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded and he could still function pretty well, although he had to be less active than he wanted.

Once they got into the habit of things, Hank went absolutely nuts over the world around him. He looked like a cat with a box. He wanted to chart everything about the Trydosperians and the way they worked. They learned that females were shapeshifters and males were teleporters while enjoying Erik's first attempt at  _chrrtl._ His eyes were growing steadily wider at the fact that neither sex was actually in charge of having children or of impregnating the other, and grew even more curious when he was informed that he was in the presence of a couple that had formed a child through male pregnancy and female fatherhood- a fact which Kurt found strange wasn't commonplace on Earth as it was on Trydosperia.

"So, I take it that's not so strange here?" Peter asked.

"No, actually," Kurt said. "We're all able to get pregnant and all able to impregnate our partners. It's one of the things that unites us, all of being able to experience what we like with our families. And we're more likely to have people around that can help when we need it."

"Fascinating!" Hank said, grinning. "I have so many questions- if that's okay with you."

"Fire away," Kurt laughed. "Trydosperia is a welcoming place to all questions and all queries."

"How often is this the case? That the male in the partnership has the children?"

"We haven't really done studies, but it's unheard of to find a village or town where no men have carried."

"What's your stance on homosexuality and polyamory?"

"If the soul mark fits, then we don't really mind. It's not natural to hate somebody for their soulmates." He smiled softly. "I wish that more planets understood that."

"Truly a tragedy," Hank mused. "Grejist doesn't have soul marks. We just, kind of, imprint on people. Land of savages. My uncle escaped with me in tow because they were hunting him for imprinting with another male. He saved my life in getting me to the rocket, both because of my more passive attitude and because of my eyesight. Sadly, he was killed."

"Hate is a tragic thing. I pity those who feel it so potent that they must destroy," Kurt answered sagely. "It doesn't do to hate your neighbors."

Hank continued to ask questions, and Kurt came back with answers that sparked a whole new question set in his head.

* * *

At the end of the day, all of the people in the war camp gathered around a large fire to speak with one another. Kurt spent time chatting with his future subjects about their day, and checked on various wounds everybody had suffered recently. He traded tips with other medics and sampled the _chriltiime_ seeds that a little girl was offering to people.

"Who is she?" Peter asked softly.

"Her name is Tress. She's the daughter of one of our bakers, and she comes here to offer food to us. Uncooked, that has flavor we use to compliment and magnify  _tritu_. She is a kind child who came here following me."

"What do you mean, following you?"

"We have a castle and a city a while north," he explained. "Those of us willing to fight in the war came here. She followed me from the castle because her mother was ill. Her father sends word daily, but... we haven't been able to take her home. She says she wants to help."

"Wow. So you're letting her fight a war?"

"No. We're not irresponsible. We're letting her help with the food."

"They treat you like one of them."

"I am one of them. Just because I will be king someday does not make me any better than them. I understand that on Earth, that's much different."

"Well, we never socialized with our leaders."

"Here, we are only leaders when there is leading to be done. That's why my mother stayed the Captain of the Guard when my father got pregnant with me. It's why he works with children and exploration. It's why I trained to become a medic."

Peter nodded. "Well. That must open some doors for you."

"It does. It shows people that we all must do things to provide for ourselves and each other, and that nobody is above laboring for the good of the planet."

He nodded, smirking as Kurt went to watch a board game between a guard and one of the other medics.

Trydosperia was certainly the kind of place Peter would fight to save.


	3. Once Upon A Midnight Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter realizes how very real Kurt's love and respect for his people is. Kurt-centric worldbuilding and exposition chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> druskimnu: drew-SKIM-new. The room, or in the case of people with larger homes, rooms, that a pregnant Trydosperian goes to give birth and regain mobility in
> 
> frinska: frin-SKUH. A gift given to newborn children as an official welcome from their mother's medic, often a small token or charm
> 
> restumi: REST-TOO-me. An animal with large fangs, small wings, and shaggy fur. Fangs are often painted and given as gifts, as different colors mean different things. A white fang means luck, a black fang means hope, a blue fang means love, a brown fang means friendship, a yellow fang means wisdom, a pink fang means strength, and a green fang means second chances or renewal.
> 
> istalba: is-tahl-buh. The period of time after birth when nobody except the mother, father, pre-existing siblings, and overseeing medic is allowed to enter the druskimnu. This time lasts until the mother can walk again, and nobody else is allowed to see the child, know its name and gender, or even see the mother. It also encompasses the time when the parents decide on a name, which is done in the first day and often has the medic absent to allow for the intimacy of naming to remain private.

A few days after everybody's job in the camp was decided, Peter had settled into the routine of things. It was his job to heal and to take notes on the daily customs of the Trydosperians and their beliefs. They were one of seven documented planets where only one language was spoken, and one culture was accepted planet wide, which made his job easier, but it was a very rich culture. He hadn't even thought about their children until one day, a young woman frantically came to beg Kurt for his help.

"It's Roan, he's having his child but he needs help," she told him frantically.

"It's okay, Marija, I'll help him. Don't worry about it." Kurt smiled at her and headed to the tent that Roan had been sleeping in.

The slightly taller man slung an arm over Kurt's shoulder and allowed himself to be helped into the forest where a small fort had been built as a stand in for the crimson-skinned man's  _druskimnu._ Once they got there, he helped him to undress.

"Th-Thank you for being so kind as to serve as medic, sir," Roan gasped out, leaning on him and spreading his knees. "It's appreciated."

"It is an honor to serve as medic to the birth of a friend's baby, Roan." Kurt smiled at him and offered him a drink of water.

After the parent to be drank the water, Kurt leaned to touch between his legs. Roan had produced a massive amount of slick in the time it took to get to the  _druskimnu_ hut, and he shivered as his tail linked with Kurt's. That was similar to handholding among females and humans, a form of reassurance or gentle affection. It wasn't uncommon for male medics to be chosen for male births, for the fact that they had tails alone, because the link was the easiest stress reliever they had.

"I'm bleed-bleeding, aren't I?"

"You're doing just fine, Roan. You've got enough slick for it to come right now, if it wants." He smiled assuringly and wiped his hand.

Roan smiled weakly at him and then cried out, grabbing one of his future king's shoulders and pressing a hand firmly on the wall for support as a wave of pain overtook him. Kurt ran a hand over Roan's large baby bump and gently pressed here and there, getting a feel for where the baby was at. He found the baby still and barely moving, the way most Trydosperians were during their own births. This allowed for the baby to be born without damaging themselves or causing too much harm for their mother to heal. He counted the seconds of Roan's contraction.

"Three minutes. You're doing perfectly." Kurt helped him shift so that gravity would help and he would have enough room to catch the child when he or she came out.

Roan eased as the pain lessened, leaning more on the wall. He smiled once the words registered. "I can't th-thank you enough, K-Kurt. Really."

"As I said. It's my privilege to deliver the child of such a close friend."

The alternating waves of pain and ease kept Roan awake and anxious, until finally he yelped and curled involuntary after seventeen hours of labor. Kurt maneuvered his hands below him and eased the small child from Roan's body. Once he had pulled the baby free, he helped Roan lay back on the nest of blankets and pillows. He wiped him clean and bathed the child, revealing azure skin and light blue hair.

"Here's your baby girl, Roan," he offered softly, holding out the child to the exhausted mother.

"Thank you... Thank you so much, Kurt. C-Can you bring Marija here to meet her?"

"Of course, my friend." Kurt went back to the camp and held a hand out to the guard. "Roan has delivered his young and waits for you in his  _druskimnu,_ Marija. Will you accompany me to meet your child?"

"Oh, thank you so much, Kurt!" She hugged him tightly, which Peter startled at, and followed him to the hut. Kurt opened the door and followed her inside to see her soulmate and their little one.

"Oh, she's precious, Roan. I'm so proud of you," Marija crooned, coming to sit next to them.

Kurt smiled and sat next to the family. "I humbly offer your child this, in  _frinska."_

He held out a coin carved from the bark of the  _cristunlas_ tree, the most valuable of all materials for its near impossibility to destroy. Imbedded in the coin was a little white  _restumi_  fang.

"Oh, thank you so much, Kurt. You are a fantastic friend." Roan beamed and took the small coin. "Thank you."

"Any time, Roan. You are a good, wise friend." He smiled and left, going back to camp to allow them to name their daughter and begin the  _istalba._

He smiled at his parents when he got back and went to rest. Both himself and Roan needed it.


	4. Rules Don't Listen To Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When species meet, they trade stories of how their people prevent abuse.

The day that Peter was able to move his hand again, he was hobbling around the village. He had been immersed in the way that people spoke to each other, and how married couples would caress each other's hands. He saw couples being treated as married even without their soulmarks matching. Instead, they had gold bands around where their marks were supposed to be- back of the neck for females, inside the tip of the tail for males- that glowed when in contact with each other. He was confused, but he didn't ask questions in case that was a taboo subject.

Kurt had been working as a medic on soldiers they had brought back from the front lines all day. In the process, by the time noon came around, he was covered in blood and tears from his patients. Peter found himself distracted when he saw Kurt, stripped down to just a modesty cloth, being washed by the women who ran the bathhouse.

The water dampened his hair and plastered it across his face, making him wipe it from his face with a graceful movement before allowing himself to be moved and lathered by the women. As the soap and water cascaded from his body, rinsing away the residue of the morning, it got pooled in the markings on his skin before it slipped down further from his body. His golden eyes were shut, and he flicked his tail lazily while they scrubbed his back. While it certainly wasn't rare to wash in public-ish areas, Peter knew that the entirety of the royal family enjoyed bathing on their own in the private part of the bathhouse. It pained him to remember that the only time many of the people here paid for this was when they were fresh from battle, when every muscle was too sore to let them bathe on their own. When they were so tired they would fall asleep and drown just as soon as slide into the water, or when they were so covered in grime that they could not bear to see the water turn black and red at their touch. Kurt was one of those people.

Peter bit his lip as Kurt was handed a towel and ushered to the back, where clean clothes and privacy to change were waiting for him. He wrapped it around himself and stepped from view.

That day, Kurt sat with the entire party from the Blackbird. They joked freely among each other and welcomed Kurt to joke as well, ad he was pretty laid back. However, Peter's mind was nagging him about those golden bands- and not the ones in Kurt's eyes.

"Hey, Kurt, on a more serious note. There have been people with, like, bracelets, over their soulmarks. What's that about?"

Kurt tensed softly, then sighed. "Those are the ones who are not partnered with their soulmates. Some of them are celibate, either by choice or proxy. Those bands don't come off and they don't ever glow. Those who are by proxy have a traditional value where they refuse to become partnered without their soulmate. Other members of those with the bands have lost their soulmates to wars or disease. They chose to remarry. Others want to choose their partner or have experience before they marry their soulmates. And some... Some left their soulmates because they were hurt."

"Hurt? How?"

"Some people take advantage of the system of marriage we have- get your marks close enough to glow, you're married soulmates. Some of them take advantage and abuse them. We let the victims free, unmarried and able to do what they will, because it is not their fault. The abusers lose the right to remarry, or even wear the rings."

"Oh... Damn."

"That sounds similar to why full-blooded Grejisty don't have soulmarks," Hank commented.

"Really? Do tell, please." Kurt looked genuinely curious.

“When Grejist was a young planet, and all of our people were still figuring out the planet and the way that life worked, they were still born with their soulmarks. We had gotten the hang of locating each other and recognized the bond that was forged between us. However, when the world went savage, so did we. The stronger of the small, isolated tribes we formed ruled the units. The weaker would be pushed to ignore themselves and allow only for the stronger to survive happily. If we broke the rules, we would be beaten and killed. However, we were even more imprisoned by our soulmarks. If we were not strong in our bonds, then we were too weak to prevent our stronger mates from hurting us. When the powers that be noticed this suffering, and the way that we were subject to our mates, to living hell, or to both, they set us free.

"Our soulmarks were removed entirely. We lost our ability to discover who we were meant to be with for all of eternity, so that we could never take advantage of each other’s binds again. We gained our freedom. Nobody is willing to abuse anymore, because people can cause punishment for it. You can be left or killed or sent away forever. This doesn’t mean, and never has meant, that we have no soulmates. We just… Can’t find them anymore. This is safety for us. It’s sometimes the only safety we have.” Hank sighed, looking down at where half-Grejisty people usually had marks, right on the palm of their hand.

"That's horrible," Kurt told him softly. "I couldn't imagine having no soulmark."

“It is what it is.” Hank sighed softly and looked at him. “It’s just the way I am. I still could find them, hypothetically, if they’re not Grejisty. They have a way of figuring it out.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Our decisions shouldn’t bring punishment to those around us.”

“I noticed that there aren’t many interspecies relationships within Trydosperia,” Jean mentioned.

“Well, we don’t have rules or taboos on it or anything about it. It’s just not common.” Kurt smiled at her. “Because we don’t travel off our planet often enough to meet many other peoples tied by marks. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, because most of us are from interspecies relationships.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled at her.

Peter excused himself before they got to the ways that other planets prevented abuse.


End file.
